


Artist's touch

by Okkkay



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Slavery, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 12:46:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8056948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okkkay/pseuds/Okkkay
Summary: Written for http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/13205.html?thread=15785621#t15785621 "Unwanted D/s situation & slave behavior".My goal was to NOT have anything triggery in this one. First chapter passed two picky betas, so I think it is safe to read. If any future chapter would need warnings, it will get proper tags.





	Artist's touch

It’s been long since Blueartist had made any sort of deal with a Cybertronian. He had always been considered a weirdo for doing it in the first place, but there was one guy who was  known for collecting sharkticon razors, so… That. Blueartist believed it was all right to be odd as long as there was someone to out-weird him.

He never reset the alert he’d left on his favorite trading site. ‘Autobot’, ‘Decepticon’ and ‘cyberoglyph’ were still among the words that were set to wake him from even the sweetest sleep, if any of them appeared in the title or description of a potential sale. But there was silence. Silence, ever since the Autobots had won.

Of course, victory didn’t go without loud speeches and spectacular celebrations all over the numerous affiliated planets. But novel victories had faded into old news, ideals had deteriorated into boundaries, and at some point allegiances had cooled down to business relations. The galaxy was no longer interested in the Cybertronian wars, as all the fighting was over. Blueartist couldn’t even put a tentacle on when he’d last heard of the Transformer species.

Then, one day, one cloudy afternoon when he was adsorbed in constructing a prototype for an embrangled pulsation –propelled interstellar engine, he received a ping he had been hoping for. When he checked out the offer, he found it was actually a lot more than what he had expected. He was looking for tools or weapons, maybe an opportunity to see a historical event. This was none of the above.

Someone, under the username ‘ _TheGoldOne’_ , was selling a Decepticon. In the condition as seen on the pictures.

No, Blueartist realized. It couldn’t be that good! Too tempting. Irrational offer. Why? How? What had happened, when nobody was watching? It had to be a prank.

He checked back the next day. He checked back between attaching the pulsation panels. He checked when he was supposed to be studying the complicated wiring patterns of the engine. Eventually, after a hopeless battle with his most rational self, he clicked the BUY button.

He hadn’t even hoped, but the offer turned out to be serious. Someone was really willing to sell a Constructicon, the one named Scrapper, to anyone willing to pay twenty-six thousand shanix for the mech, plus an additional five hundred for off-world shipping. Blueartist was eager to do so, though he made a point of not authorizing the transfer of credits until the bright green mech had been delivered to his workshop’s entrance. That was fine with the seller.

He also asked _TheGoldOne_ why he decided to trade off the Decepticon. ‘My brother was willing to bet nobody would want him,’ was the reply. ‘If you hadn’t bought him, Gears would have had to pay us twenty. So we would have got almost the same money anyway, but hey - I also won the bet.  That’s what matters. Have fun with the Scrap, whoever you are.’

Blueartist counted the days. He spent the last few hours until the mech arrived checking around his territory, making sure everything was set for the new arrival. Finally, his Decepticon was indeed placed in front of his workshop’s main entrance.

The first glance was terrifying to them both. Blueartist was shocked to see all the damage that had been done to the Decepticon. Scrapper almost stasis-locked himself when he realized he’d been sold to a Quintesson.

 


End file.
